


let's drink to feelings of temptation (you and i, we're an overnight sensation)

by bellawritess



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternative Press Music Awards, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Friendship/Love, HAHAH THATS A TAG REALLYYYYY, Heavy Drinking, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, friends with benefits dynamics...kinda, i don't know shit about the other band members from other bands mentioned here, inspired by jack flirting with tyler posey at the apmas presidential debate, it all just spiraled from there, just needed names lol, lotta kissing in this fic. LOT of kissing, many bandom name drops but none of them actually in it, more like best friends with benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess
Summary: They’ve barely entered the venue when Jack turns to Alex."I'm gonna go make out with Tyler Posey," he says.
Relationships: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth, Jack Barakat/Zack Merrick, Rian Dawson/Alex Gaskarth, background Rian Dawson/Cassadee Pope, this is a slutty fic, those last two are minor but it's not like anyone is in the atl tag anyway
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	let's drink to feelings of temptation (you and i, we're an overnight sensation)

**Author's Note:**

> well this fic in my docs is titled "slutty slutty APMAs" so make of that what you will
> 
> anyway. i watched [tyler posey host the alex vs. jack 2016 APMAs presidential debate](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncNBJ_I0irM&t=594s) (i think that link starts from the moment that inspired this fic) and jack was hitting shamelessly on tyler posey and then i wrote this and then, i swear to god, it spiraled completely beyond my control. i can tell you that the premise of it is loosely inspired by this fic [Kiss On Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/510649) by BlackWave (a 1d fic) but that's VERY VERY LOOSELY.
> 
> so...big fuckin shoutout to [sam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellingatbabylon) for being my cheerleader, both for this fic and in general, and for talking about jalex (et al) with me. and also for being just like. super cool and awesome. sam i love you i don't know if you know that but i do
> 
> also!!! kind of exciting posting my first REAL jalex fic not counting the tumblr prompt fics so!!! good vibes all around
> 
> title is from a party song (the walk of shame) by all time low, of course. actually a really good song for this fic lmao
> 
> it says it in the tags, but big big big tw for drinking/alcohol

They’ve barely entered the venue when Jack turns to Alex.

"I'm gonna go make out with Tyler Posey," he says.

Alex grins. "Have fun." He hopes Jack manages it — although the way they’d been eyeing each other during the Presidential Debate leaves little doubt in Alex’s mind — and hopes Jack _does_ have fun, because he’s pretty sure it’s a lifelong dream of Jack’s to make out with Tyler Posey, ever since that first episode of _Teen Wolf_. Alex is pretty sure that if Jack had a freebie list, Tyler Posey would be at the top. Right above Rob Lowe and, like, Ryan Gosling. 

“I will,” Jack says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. And then he’s gone, sliding away between people to hunt down Tyler Posey. Alex giggles and goes to locate some alcohol.

The afterparty of the APMAs is predictably loud, in full swing already; All Time Low had arrived fashionably late (but early by Alex’s standards), and the drinks table is already sticky with spilled beer. Alex chugs his first and nurses his second, lingering for a moment before he realizes that at a party like this it’s probably a mistake to crowd the drinks table. He surveys the massive room before him, and all its various people. There’s music playing — party music, Alex is pretty sure, Top 40 stuff, which strikes him as a little odd for the soundtrack to the Alternative Press Music Awards afterparty, but whatever — and for a second Alex closes his eyes to it. The bassline thrums under his feet, up into his head and out to his fingertips. It makes him feel buzzed, as if the beer’s kicked in already, though he knows it can’t have.

He’s looking forward to when it does, though. This is the best way to get plastered — surrounded by friends and rock stars — and Alex intends to cash in.

"Oh, you're back," Alex says. "How was making out with Tyler Posey?"

Jack looks disheveled and there's a hickey on his neck that definitely wasn't there before, but he says, "Disappointing."

"Wow," Alex says, whistling lowly. "Bet he's never been called that before. Why?"

"Because I kept thinking about you," Jack says. "I was making out with _Tyler motherfucking Posey_ and thinking about you."

"It's been known to happen," Alex says. "Something about the fringe really gets all the guys going."

"I hate you," Jack says, sounding like he doesn't mean it but really wishes he did. Then, "Sorry, I'm like, so fucking drunk."

"Oh, I know," Alex says. He, too, is fucking drunk. “I’m giving you a chance to play that off.”

“Play what off?”

“That you were thinking about me while you had your tongue down Tyler Posey’s throat.”

“Why would I play that off? I was.”

Alex shrugs. “Okay, and? Do you want to do something about it?”

“Yes,” Jack says. “Duh. I’m trying to drop hints here. Are they not landing? Did you get super bad at picking up hints?”

Alex laughs. “It’s better if you just ask. You’re wasted. I might not be getting the right message.” He is, he knows he is, but it’s fun to play like this.

Jack’s words slur together and he’s kind of listing to the side, but his gaze hold’s Alex’s steady. “Can we make out?”

Alex smirks, because he is also wasted, and nothing could possibly seem like a better idea than this, and drags Jack in.

It takes Jack about twenty seconds before he's biting Alex's neck, overeager in his intoxicated state, and Alex struggles to say, "We should maybe — take this somewhere else. With less people." He twists his neck, fingernails digging into Jack's shoulders, and for a moment isn't even sure Jack's heard him. "Jack."

Jack hums and pulls away, breathing heavy. "Okay," he says, "but quickly, 'cause I'm not gonna be drunk forever."

That's debatable, Alex thinks. If anyone could manage to be drunk forever, it would be Jack. 

"Outside?" Alex suggests, and Jack wrinkles his nose. "Uh, okay, um, bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Jack agrees, and they stumble to the bathroom as one. No sooner has the door shut behind Alex than Jack is backing him into it, lips on Alex's, tasting very very strongly of the whiskey he’d generously indulged in on the way here. Somehow that makes Alex feel better. They're both so incredibly drunk, and this won't be the first time they've hooked up while sloshed, although it is the first time Jack's admitted to thinking about Alex like that.

"I can't believe you —" Jack sucks a mark onto Alex's neck and Alex gasps, gripping Jack's shoulders like a vice. "You stopped making out with Tyler fucking Posey because of me."

Jack looks at him. "Me either," he says. "But this is definitely better."

"Really?"

"Somehow, yes,” Jack says, grimacing like he’s trying to decide if it’s worth it to be annoyed about that. He must conclude that it isn’t, because he crashes their lips together again; Alex can't help but agree with the sentiment. He's never made out with Tyler Posey and probably never will, but at the moment he can't imagine anyone could possibly feel better to kiss than Jack, his Jack, or at least the Jack that he knows inside out and front to back — _this_ Jack, the one whose fingers are tugging at the waistband of Alex's jeans right now. 

Alex groans, head falling back against the door, eyes closed. Jack takes the cue and mouths at the sensitive skin under Alex’s jaw, and Alex lets out a soft whine. The APMAs should make an award for Best With His Mouth. Jack would win. Jack would be the only fucking nominee, holy shit. Raggedly, Alex manages, “Jesus fucking Christ, Jack, that feels fucking good,” as if Jack doesn’t know that, as if Jack would do it if it didn’t feel good. Best with his mouth, no question. 

Jack laughs, apropos of nothing. "What?" Alex demands.

Jack shakes his head. "Fuck, nothing, seriously. Can I —"

"Yes," Alex cuts him off, pulse racing with anticipation. "Yes, obviously you can, whatever you want, Jack. Anything. Please."

"I can't believe I ditched Tyler Posey just to suck your dick," Jack gripes, but he's already sinking to his knees, and Alex gets the feeling that if Tyler Posey had asked Alex to suck his dick Alex would probably have chosen Jack over him.

One day, when he's not drunk, when they're not at the APMAs afterparty, when Jack's not about to give him the best blowjob he knows he's ever going to get — one day Alex will figure out what it is that makes them come back to each other, choose each other over everyone else again and again, like clockwork. But definitely not today.

Jack leaves soon after they're done, with a very solemn apology. "I have a checklist of everyone here who I would be interested in making out with," he says, "and I'm trying to get as many people as I can."

"Have a good time," Alex says. He really doesn't care; Jack's like this, and he's always been like this. Alex knows that. 

He also knows Jack's going to come back to him, time and again.

"Thanks for your service," Alex adds, and Jack snorts a laugh, pats the side of Alex's face, licks his cheek, and says, "Anytime, Alexander, and unfortunately that is not a joke."

Alex knows that, too. 

  
  


The next Alex sees of Jack he's got one arm slung around Patrick Stump's shoulders. Even as Alex thinks _no way is he gonna pull Patrick Stump_ , they're already at it. Alex grins and shakes his head. He should stop underestimating Jack. 

"Hey, hey, hey," says Rian, coming up behind Alex and hugging him around his neck. "Oh, I'm so drunk."

"Join the club!" Alex says brightly. "I'm watching Jack pull."

"That's always fun," Rian says. "You and him done your usual fuck-around yet?"

"Yeah," Alex says. "I was his second victim. But," it feels important to mention, "he ditched Tyler Posey for me."

"Oh, I totally called him and Posey," Rian says, sounding far more enthusiastic about that than the fact that Alex had taken precedence over Tyler Posey. Redeeming himself, Rian says, "Good for you. You've got him wrapped around your finger."

"I wouldn't say that," Alex says dryly, still watching as Jack and Patrick swap spit. "Per se."

Rian laughs into Alex's neck. "No, you do. 'Cause if you asked him right now to never fuck around with anyone else, you know he'd stop."

Alex tilts his head. That's probably true, and it gives Alex a weird rush. But he'd never do that to Jack. He doesn't own Jack, and anyway being slutty and promiscuous is part of Jack's whole thing. He enjoys it, and Alex isn't about to take that away from him. He's not a monster. Jack can fuck around with whoever he wants. 

"Mm, maybe," he says. "I think I need more alcohol."

"I am absolutely certain that's not true," Rian says cheerfully. "Let's go find some."

  
  


Jack has Brendon Urie backed against a wall, and Alex is chugging beer while Rian chants, "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

It takes him nine seconds to finish. He crumples the red solo cup in his hand and throws it violently to the ground, whooping loudly for himself. "Okay," he says, overcorrecting as he loses his balance and toppling instead into Rian. "Oh, fuck, I'm drunk. I'm so drunk." He looks up into Rian's face. Rian's conventionally attractive, and he's strong and has a nice mouth and great arms, probably in the top ten arms Alex has ever seen, so Alex says, "Wanna make out?" Because fuck it, if Jack can do it then so can Alex.

Rian looks amused. "I have a girlfriend."

Oh, yeah. "Forgot," Alex says, making a face. "I bet she wouldn't mind, though."

"I bet she probably would," Rian says. 

"Call and ask."

"And ask Cass, my girlfriend, if I can make out with you, my bandmate?" Rian grins. It's not a decision sober Rian would ever make, but luckily this Rian is hammered. "Fuck it, alright." 

Alex cheers while Rian pulls out his phone. It takes him two tries to get the password in, and he accidentally opens Snapchat before he hits the phone app. Finally he manages to dial Cassadee. It rings, several times, and then goes to voicemail.

"Terrible girlfriend!" Alex declares. "Worst girlfriend ever!" He snatches Rian's phone, and when it beeps, he says, "Cass, hey, it's Alex, calling to inform you that I'm gonna make out with your boyfriend. Love you, hope you're good."

"We're not going to make out," Rian chimes in, but Alex swiftly hits the _end call_ button. Rian gives him a look. "If she breaks up with me, I'm blaming you."

"Okay," Alex says. He giggles. "I don't even want to make out with you anymore, dude. I'm gonna go find someone else to seduce."

"Great idea," Rian says. "I bet Jack would be interested."

"Now _that's_ a great idea," Alex announces, and just for that he grabs Rian's face and plants a kiss on his cheek. "This was all a test. You passed. Congratulations, you're a faithful boyfriend."

"Thank you," Rian says, bowing dramatically. "I hold that title with honor."

Alex laughs, and then wanders away, tripping over his own feet, until he locates Jack. At the moment he's entirely unattached, so Alex seizes the opportunity.

"Hey," he says, stretching it out flirtatiously and wrapping Jack bodily in a hug from behind. Jack wriggles in his grasp.

"Alex!" he says, sounding delighted. "What is up, my man?"

"Rian's a buzzkill," Alex informs him. "Although I guess we knew that already. How's your bucket list? French list? Kiss list?"

"French list," Jack says, snickering. "Well, I'm making great progress, but sadly none of them are you."

"That is very sad," Alex agrees. It _is_ sad. Jack should get to enjoy making out with whoever he wants. It does give Alex a kind of thrill, though, with how much power he holds over Jack.

Not that Jack has any less over Alex. All he has to do is cock his head and Alex is basically on his knees.

"It hasn't stopped me though," Jack barrels on. "I got Patrick and Vic and Brendon and Kellin. Slow and steady, baby."

"Seriously, Vic?" Alex says. "You'd think he'd be decent."

"He is." Jack leans his head far back until it hits Alex's shoulder. "Just not you."

Alex hums. "Well, you know where to find me."

"Do you think Zack would kiss me, if I asked nicely?" 

"Yeah," Alex says, because he does. "I'm pretty sure you're the only person he would, but yeah."

"I bet he'd kiss you."

"Well, I don't want to kiss Zack."

"Well I don't _want_ to kiss him. Well. I do." Jack falls into a thoughtful silence, and Alex dances his fingers along Jack's stomach. "Well, I do, but just to see. I'm just curious."

"Fuck it," Alex says. "Might as well. Kiss the whole band, bro. Oh, except Rian."

"I would never come between Rian and Cass," Jack says dignifiedly. "Hey, you wanna get me a drink?"

"No," Alex says, tightening his arms around Jack. "I just got a drink."

"Alex," Jack whines. "Please? I'm on a mission here. I'm working."

That makes Alex laugh. "You're unbelievable, you stupid fuck. Just come with me."

Jack sighs. "Fine." He twists around and abruptly breaks from Alex's grip, but moments later slides back into it just to press a kiss to the corner of Alex's mouth. Alex tilts his head, but Jack's already moving away.

"Tease," Alex accuses him, as Jack begins to dance out of reach. "Fucking tease, you’re such an asshole! Kiss me like you mean it." He tugs on Jack's arm and pulls him back in, and when Alex kisses him there's not even a moment's protest, just Jack melting under his touch. It feels just as good this time as it had before. Alex is pretty sure he could kiss every single person in this room and still prefer kissing Jack. 

If Alex has Jack wrapped around his finger, it's only because Jack had Alex first.

"You taste like beer," Jack mumbles into Alex's mouth, and Alex isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Jack pulls away and grins. "Really hot, but not a substitute for the real thing. Come _on_!"

And like so often is the case, Alex follows him.

Zack is also getting a drink, and when Jack sees him he lights up like a fucking neon sign. "Zacky!"

Zack turns. His drink sloshes over the edges of his cup, and he grins. "Jacky!" he returns, with almost as much spirit. 

"Just the sexy bassist I was looking for," Jack says, abandoning Alex. Alex takes the opportunity to fill a cup of his own, even though he really doesn't need it. "Zack, Alex and I were wondering if —"

"It was just Jack," Alex says distractedly, very focused on making sure all of his beer stays in his cup. "Don't drag me into this."

"You wondered too!" Jack protests. To Zack, he says, “If you'd kiss either of us."

Zack looks baffled. "I have," he says. 

"He _has,_ " Alex says, though he's not sure what he's emphasizing. 

"Make out with, I mean," Jack presses. "With tongue. Ten seconds or more kinda deal."

"Oh." Zack screws up his face. "Is this hypothetical, or…?"

"It is for me," Alex says, half-raising a hand. “I don't want to make out with you."

"Put me on blast, why don't you," Jack says without malice. "No, Zack, I'm asking if you'll make out with me. Just for a little bit. I have a list. You know that list I was making earlier?"

" _That's_ what that was?"

"You're telling me you've never wondered about kissing your bestest friend Jack?" Jack wheedles, prodding at Zack's (seriously monstrous) bicep. "Not even once?"

"If I agree, it's not because I've thought about it," Zack says. He tugs a hand through his unruly hair. "I'm just really drunk."

"Best way to be!" Jack cheers.

Zack sighs, and his face breaks into a grin despite himself. "Okay, yeah, fine. Whatever, it's fucking — might as well."

"Everyone's gotta make out with their band at least once," Alex puts in wisely. "Should I go?"

"Yes," Zack says, as Jack says, "Unless you wanna watch."

"I'll go," Alex decides. Maybe he does want to watch, but he's _pretty_ sure he doesn't, and absolutely certain that if he does, it's the alcohol talking. Not that he's been keen on ignoring the alcohol's voice thus far, but he can't watch Jack and Zack make out. That's crossing a line. 

As if summoned by the three-fourths of the band in attendance, Rian materializes. "Oh, everyone is here," he says, and promptly takes Alex by the arm and drags him away.

"Hey, don't — just because you're the size of two of me doesn't mean you can just manhandle me!"

"I just got a call from Cass," Rian informs Alex. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright; he's _drunk_ , and there's no telling what drunk Rian will ever do. "I think I can safely put it in the category of top ten most bizarre phone calls I will ever receive."

"Not a breakup, though," Alex says hopefully. "I…assume?"

"Nope," Rian says. "What she said was, _hey, Rian, if you really want to kiss your bandmates that's fine, I don't mind. Go right ahead._ " He gives Alex a meaningful look.

"Okay," Alex says. "So she's a cool girlfriend who's not going to skin you for kissing a dude. Are you saying you wanna make out now? Because, man, I am mostly beer right now and you _need_ to be clearer."

"Yes," Rian says, one strong hand clamping down on Alex's shoulder. "Basically, yes. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Oh." Alex grins. "Sick." He trips forward into Rian's space. "First time for everything," he declares, and then catches Rian in a kiss, feeling that this is decidedly the strangest night of Alex's life so far, or at least _definitely_ top five. 

It's weird to kiss Rian, and it's not bad, but Alex has almost exclusively kissed Jack the last several months, and Rian is extremely not-Jack. Everything about him is the polar opposite; he's scruffy where Jack's clean-shaven, muscular where Jack is wiry, and unlike Jack, Rian actually lets Alex take control of the kiss. By all rights, Alex should enjoy kissing Rian just as much as, if not more than, kissing Jack. 

And there's something to be said for the big strong hands cradling Alex's face, and the scratch of stubble around Rian's mouth, but overall Alex spends most of the kiss wondering when he can track down Jack again when this is done. 

Not that that means it’s a bad kiss. After some amount of time that Alex is far too gone to count, they break apart, and it severs them fully, both stepping away. 

"Cass is," Alex licks his lips, then wipes at them with the back of his hand, "a lucky lady."

Rian laughs. "Jack is a lucky guy."

"Jack's not my boyfriend."

Rian hums, smirking. "Yet."

"Jack's not my boyfriend," Alex repeats. "You think if he were my boyfriend I would be cool with him going around kissing everyone at the APMAs?"

"Uh," Rian says, "yes? I do?" Alex gives him a look. "Isn’t that what I just did? In a relationship, kissed another person? It's not weird. I mean I know he's not your boyfriend, but just think about it, man. Why not?"

Alex stares and finds himself at a loss for words. "Because he's just not," he says, failing to come up with anything at all better than that. Why _isn't_ Jack his boyfriend? Why shouldn't he be?

 _Jack's a slut,_ Alex reminds himself, but that really hasn't ever bothered Alex, and he can't imagine it would bother him if they were together. Alex already knows that he's going to be the last person Jack kisses tonight, probably the person he falls asleep with and wakes up next to with a hangover to rival being whacked in the skull with a steel bat, and when everyone else has dispersed, it'll just be him and Jack left, like it always is.

So why _shouldn't_ Jack be his boyfriend?

"I'm gonna go," Alex announces. He means to say where he's gonna go but realizes as he tapers off that he hasn't decided, so he just leaves it. "Thanks for kissing me, man. That was on my bucket list, probably, if I had one."

Rian shakes his head. He's laughing. "Our lives are fucking weird," he says.

"Oh yeah," Alex agrees. "So weird." He pats Rian's cheeks and then retreats, stepping between people and going nowhere in particular.

"Okay, where does Zack rank?"

Jack purses his lips and falls deep in thought. "Below you and Brendon but higher than anyone else."

"Conquistador," Alex crows, talking about himself. Jack just gives him a funny look. "Chart-topping kisser Alex William Gaskarth beats everyone out, baby. You keep saying."

"Oh," Jack says. "Well, yeah." He drains the last of the beer from his cup, then takes Alex's cup and finishes that, too. "Okay," he says. "I have to go find one of the 21 Pilots. I don't care which one."

"Josh is there," Alex says, pointing. Jack turns. 

"Oh, awesome," he says. "I'm gonna go seduce him."

"Have fun," Alex says. "Use protection."

Jack cackles, ruffles Alex's hair, tugs on his fringe, and then prances away to go seduce Josh Dun.

Alex has definitely had too much to drink. He's veering dangerously away from cool, sexy, fun drunk, teetering on the border of existential, despairing drunk, and the only person present to pull him back from the brink is Rian.

"I mean if you think about it," he slurs, "if you _think._ About it. I mean, are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," says Rian, like the good sport and amazing friend that he is. 

"Think about it," Alex repeats, except he's forgotten what he had intended to have them both think about. He blinks. "What's the point of any of it? We're born from stars, we'll die as stars, eventually the universe is gonna repeat itself, and then what? Like, do you know what I mean?"

Rian pauses. "I don't, really. But, uh, there are almost two of you, so I don't know if that's a you problem or a me problem."

"We are _drunk_ ," Alex proclaims, tipping until his hip bangs against the table of drinks. "Ow, fuck. No, hold up. I was going somewhere with this."

"So _go_ ," says Rian.

Alex racks his brain. There'd been a connection he had been trying very intently to make. "There's no point to any of it," he says slowly, and the final piece locks into place — aha! "So," he concludes triumphantly, "why _shouldn't_ Jack be my boyfriend?"

Rian makes a noise of disbelief. "All that for that? I could have fucking told you that. I _did_ tell you that."

"I'm trying to think out loud here!"

"You're such a dumbass," Rian says fondly. Alex is pretty sure it's fondness that's lacing his tone. He's dizzy drunk, though, so it's hard to be sure. "Dude, just go ask Jack to be your boyfriend."

"Right now?"

" _Yes,_ now."

"He's busy making out with the entire 2000s pop punk scene, though."

"You are part of the 2000s pop punk scene," Rian points out, making an extremely good point.

"But I already hooked up with him tonight," Alex says mournfully. “He —” 

"I don't really need to know the details," Rian interrupts, "but I'm telling you, you should just ask. What's the worst that can happen?"

"He says no."

"Come on," Rian says. "Think about Jack. Think about your relationship with Jack. You think he'll say no?"

"He _might,_ though."

Rian sighs and claps his hand around Alex's neck. "Look me in the eyes, Alex," he says, so Alex does, wondering dimly if they're about to kiss again. He's not strictly opposed but not particularly in favor; it's been checked off the figurative bucket list, and enjoyable though it had been, Alex doesn't feel like they need to do it again. Fortunately, Rian doesn't kiss him. "It's you and Jack. Like, what I mean is, it's always been you and Jack. It'll always _be_ you and Jack. You might as well fuckin' make it official, man."

Alex stares at him. "You have beautiful eyes," he tells Rian. Rian laughs. 

"Well, I hope you at least try," he says, stepping back. "I am now going to go find somewhere quiet to call my girlfriend and tell her I love her."

"Have a good time," Alex says. "Good luck finding somewhere quiet. From the moment we're born there's no silence until we're buried in our graves, you know."

Rian shakes his head. "Get your philosophical bullshit away from me," he says, and then retreats, swept up by people partying. Between one blink and the next, he's gone.

Alex goes in search of Jack.

Jack is just stepping away from Mike Fuentes. When he sees Alex, he lights up and all but launches himself at Alex. "Both Fuentes, baby! I'm on fuckin' _fire!_ "

"That's your greatest accomplishment yet," Alex agrees. "I mean, plenty of people have made it as bands, but how many people can say they've kissed both Fuentes brothers?"

"Just me, motherfuckers!" Jack whoops. There might be someone else, but, Alex figures, it doesn't matter.

"Hey, Jack," he says suddenly. "Can I ask you a question? It's important."

Jack's face immediately melts into concern. "Yeah, yeah, of course. What's up?"

Alex squints. "Why, uh, why aren't you my boyfriend?"

There's a moment where nobody says anything, and time stands still despite all scientific proof that it can't do that. 

Then Jack says, "I dunno, you never asked me to be."

"Really?" Alex says, surprised. "That's the only reason?"

Jack shrugs. "I guess? Also because I, you know, sleep around. If we were boyfriends I'd probably stop that, though."

"I don't think I care that much?" Alex says, although he's not sure. He's never felt _possessive_ over Jack, because Jack has never officially been his, and it wouldn't be fair. If Jack _were_ his, though, maybe he'd feel differently. But he won't know unless they try.

"I'd stop," Jack says determinedly. "I mean, how many times tonight did I kiss people and wish I was kissing you? If I could kiss you any time, whenever, then why the fuck would I ever kiss anyone else?"

"Well, that's a good point," Alex says. The comment sends him down a path of disjointed memories of the night, and out of nowhere he says, "Oh my fucking god, I kissed Rian."

" _What?"_ Jack says, jaw dropping.

"I mean like, we kissed _each other_ , I didn't just plant one on him. Cassadee called and was like, _it's cool if you kiss Alex_ , I guess."

Jack shakes his head. "Fuck. I can't believe this. Do you think he'd kiss me? Wait, how was it?"

"Good," Alex says, finding no reason to lie. "But I was wishing it was you."

Jack tilts his head back. His neck is scattered with bruises of varying degrees of intensity, and Alex knows he's responsible for most but not all. When Jack returns his gaze to Alex, he's giggling.

"We are fucking hopeless," he finally says, and leans against Alex, his left cheek flush against the left side of Alex's face. "All we do is kiss others dudes and think about kissing each other. Why do we even bother?"

That's a really fucking good question. "That," Alex says, "is a really fucking good question." He wrinkles his nose. "Well, uh, _do_ you want to be my boyfriend, then? If we're already, like, here."

"Sure," Jack says, "but I _need_ to get through this list."

"Where's the list?"

Jack pulls out his phone. "I made it my lock screen," he tells Alex, passing his phone over. "I swear to God you could not pay me to remember my password right now."

That's funny, because Alex remembers Jack's password, but he doesn't need it; as promised, the notes screenshot shows up as the lock screen. "Oh, you're only missing a couple," Alex says, nodding in impressed deference. "Rian. I bet you could get Rian if you go ask him right now. And you — does that say State Champs?" Everything is kind of blurry right now.

"Yeah," Jack says. "But ideally Tyler."

"Oh, he'll be easy, I bet," Alex says. "I'm pretty sure he's got a monster crush on you anyway."

"Sick," Jack says. Then, worriedly, "I mean, not sick. I don't want to kiss him if he's gonna fall in love with me."

"I'm sure kissing you will have the opposite effect on him," Alex says. Jack punches him in the shoulder. It doesn't hurt. Jack's built up absolutely zero muscle in their years as a band. He and Alex make up the lanky half of the band, and they wear that badge with pride.

"Well, I'll just check that it's okay before I get him to make out with me," Jack decides. "That's it, though, right? Just Tyler and Rian?"

Alex nods and returns Jack's phone. "Go make out with them," he says seriously, like this is a mission, a question of life or death, "then come find me, and then I'll ask you to be my boyfriend again and you can start your life of monogamy."

"Boring," Jack says, but he's grinning super wide, and he kisses Alex before he goes, clumsy and quick. "Just reminding myself what I have to look forward to," he quips, waving as he walks away.

Alex waves back, and then stumbles off, taking a page out of Rian's book in search of someplace quiet. It'll be a moment before Jack needs him, and Alex is pretty sure he's just crossed into existential despairing drunk territory, and he needs a little bit of peace and quiet, stat.

Unfortunately, the only place there's any semblance of quiet is outside, so outside Alex goes, clumsily knocking into people on his way. The night is descending on him, or the morning, or whichever time it is now; he should have been expecting this to hit. He knows himself. It's always only a matter of time and alcohol before he's crying in Rian's arms about the finality of death and the pointlessness of trying to make a mark on a cold, unfeeling universe. He should have known.

It's pleasant out, and there are people kissing, leaning against the wall of the building. Alex doesn't look at them, just walks, staggering, until he turns the corner. Then he slowly sinks down to a sitting position in the sparse grass and leans his head back against the brick. 

The stars are so pretty, he thinks, distastefully; it's a bit rude of them to be pretty, for that to be all they're good for. Alex is in short sleeves, and suddenly he's cold. Lonely. Alone. He shouldn't have left Jack inside. 

And there's _Jack_ , his maybe-boyfriend-to-be. The more Alex thinks about it the more he wants it, until it's filling his chest and seeping into his lungs and coursing through his veins instead of blood. He hasn't had anyone — like, not _someone,_ a boyfriend or girlfriend or anything, in so long, and he wonders now if that had been _because_ of Jack. Who needed a boyfriend when there was Jack, with open arms and a very willing, fuck-it-may-as-well attitude, and why would Alex seek out anyone else when Jack needed only to touch Alex to send him to his knees? 

Maybe Jack has been his boyfriend for a long time, and Alex is only just realizing.

He sits there for a long time, staring at the sky, thinking and thinking and thinking, until his phone starts buzzing a lot. Rian is calling.

"Hm?" Alex says as a greeting. "Rian, what's up?"

"I've got Jack here," Rian says dryly. "He's looking for you."

Immediately Alex feels better. "I'm outside," he says. "Around the building to the right."

Rian sighs. "I'll walk him to you."

"I can fucking figure it out!" Jack's distant protest comes. Alex giggles. 

"See you," he says. The line goes dead. Alex puts his phone back in his pocket and waits.

He doesn't have to wait long. Two minutes later, Jack trots up to Alex, and Alex beams, bright-eyed, as Jack sits on the ground next to Alex, shoulders brushing. 

"How did it go?" Alex asks.

Jack nods. "Great, I got 'em both. Caught Rian just before he called Cass but he said that she said he could kiss _any_ of his bandmates. Which includes me."

"It does include you," Alex agrees.

"That makes us spit sisters," Jack says, as if they haven't kissed like three times tonight alone. "Also me and Cass. Also _you_ and Cass. Also Rian and Zack. Oh my god, I made so many people at this party spit sisters." He barks an incredulous laugh. "Let's _go!"_

"You're too powerful," Alex says. "Have to be stopped."

"Locked down," Jack concedes. He turns expectantly to Alex. "Were you gonna ask me something?"

Was he? _Was_ he? Oh, fuck, right — "Yeah," Alex says. He also turns, meets Jack's eyes. "Do you wanna be my boyfriend?"

"Yeah," Jack says, like it's easy. Like there's nothing else to it. It's so quiet outside that it feels deafening in comparison to the constant crush of noise indoors, and if he holds his breath Alex can hear his own heartbeat pounding out a rhythm in his chest. 

"That's all? Just yes?"

Jack frowns. "Is there something else?"

It feels like it should be harder. "I guess not," Alex says. "Seal with a kiss, maybe?"

"I'm down for that," Jack says, already leaning towards Alex, and when they meet in the middle it's somehow the sweetest kiss Alex has ever had on his lips. This isn't a version of Jack Alex has been privy to. They've never kissed to be in love before.

And maybe _in love_ is too strong, too much for this, but it's also not enough. This with Jack is something old _and_ something new, half of a famous wedding adage; in this moment they're both strangers and soulmates. Alex can't remember having ever kissed Jack with the expectation that he'd be doing it again, that he could do it whenever he wanted, and it feels good. It feels like he doesn't have to take everything he can out of it, because it's not a one-time thing anymore, a "usual fuck-around" per Rian's words.

Whatever it is, it's real, and Alex wants to keep exploring it, building on it until he buries himself.

When Jack finally pulls away, licking his lips appreciatively, he gives Alex an appraising look. Then: "Beer finally hitting?" And reaches out to knock lightly against Alex's skull. "Thinking about the stars and galaxy and our place in the universe yet?"

Alex's lips part in what might be surprise, though he shouldn't be surprised that Jack knows him this well. "Yeah," he says. "The usual stuff. None of this matters, specks of dust hurtling through space, you know."

"I never agreed with that," Jack says thoughtfully. He turns away from Alex to follow his gaze, but at the same time leans against Alex's side, head on Alex's shoulder, so that makes up for it. "The part about nothing mattering."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Because, you know, shit matters to me. This matters. The APMAs, the band, the music, the friends. You matter. To me. To lots of people. You’re Mr. Popularity." Jack pauses, like he's lost his train of thought, but quickly rejoins it. "And if I say it matters then it does, right? If everything's made up anyway, then I might as well be God. If I say it matters then it matters."

"Fuck," Alex says, feeling weirdly turned on. "I didn't realize you had real opinions on it."

"Well, normally I try to let you get it all out, since you're usually crying," Jack says frankly. Alex laughs. That's true enough. "But you're not crying now, so I figured I would share."

"Because I'm happy now," Alex hums, leaning his head into Jack's. "I'm excited to be your boyfriend."

"Oh, me too," Jack murmurs. He makes a sweeping, drunken gesture towards the sky of stars. "These bitches have nothing on me."

Alex frowns, confused. "The…the stars?"

"Yeah," Jack says. "Because, you know. They've never gotten to be your boyfriend. I'm already beating them. I've been beating them for years just getting to know you. We both have."

"Jack," Alex says weakly. He's in love, and he knows it suddenly like nothing else, as a fact of his life, of himself. When he tries to push the words off his tongue, though, they stick. Alex casts around for anything equal to say. "I'd give up the stars for you," he settles on, which is true.

Jack breathes a laugh. "I'd never ask you to do that. I'm not an asshole. Well. Not _that_ much of an asshole."

"Say thank you, I'm giving you a compliment, you fuckhead."

Jack snorts. "Thanks for the weird compliment slash threat."

"You are welcome," Alex says primly. Between their bent knees, Jack's hand crosses the gap until it finds Alex's, and he tangles their fingers together. It’s strikingly romantic, and it makes Alex’s heart flutter. 

"I love you," Jack says, and Alex's breath catches.

"That's what I was trying to say," he says. "Yeah. I love you."

Jack smiles, and Alex squeezes his hand. For a brief moment, it's just him and Jack in the world, no building or stars or skies or grass, and Alex realizes that when the world falls away, this is enough for him. Just his hand in Jack's is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> for more absolute fuckery come say hello on tumblr [@clumsyclifford](http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/) okay bye


End file.
